


Forging New Friendships

by lillianfromaccounting



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianfromaccounting/pseuds/lillianfromaccounting
Summary: Basically, CATWS but from Sam's POV and set in a medieval AU.





	Forging New Friendships

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang (2017).
> 
> Thank you to @not-worms (on tumblr) for the amazing art for the bang!

Sam emerged from the lake, beads of iridescent water rolling off him. Judging by the position of the sun, it was almost time for him to report to the foundry. He should have gotten out two laps ago, but this morning, a man Sam had never met before spurred him on with a race. There were no witnesses and no prize to be had, but Sam’s pride was on the line.

“On ye left,” the man would call out every time he swam past. Sam usually paid no mind to bravado types, but there was something about this man that was different. For starters, he swam very fast--faster than any man probably should.

Could this man possess some sort of magical power? Sam knew that Iron-man and his team they call the Avengers were all up north, but it wouldn’t be surprising if they were now in the capitol where Sam lived. He had only heard tales of one man in the kingdom with similar physical prowess--the one who wore the stars and stripes, Captain America.

Sam dropped to the grass, rolling onto his back, chest heaving with every inhale of air. His muscles were on fire from the inside and his heart was about to leap out of his ribs. The other guy walked up to him, hands on his hips. His features matched the description of the famed blessed knight.

“Need a medic?“ the man asked, draping a lush cloak over himself.

“I need a new body,” Sam chuckled, catching his breath. “Do you always swim a day’s ride before breakfast?”

“Guess I had a late start.” Steve smirked.

“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself,” Sam teased. “You should take another lap. Did you take it? I assume you just took it.” Sam slid his arms through the sleeves of a cotton garment.

“What unit you in?” Steve asked, pointing to the insignia on Sam’s vest.

“Fifty-eighth, air rescue. But now I work at the forge,” Sam replied, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve shook Sam’s hand.

He was just as humble as everyone said, Sam thought. Most men of his stature would lead with their title, sir this or archduke that. Captain wasn’t a title to sneeze at, yet Steve chose to leave it out. It was almost like he didn’t want to be associated with it, at least not in this interaction.

“I kinda put that together,” Sam replied.

The legend of Captain America was that he was born a runt of a boy. During the Second Great War, the king asked Merlin to devise a magical potion to transform his men into talented knights. The potion was only tested on one Steven Grant Rogers who hailed from the king’s own fief, and it bestowed upon him unbelievable grace. He proved to be a great asset in taking down the enemy, whom Steve supposedly punched hundreds of times. As a final act to win the war and to conquer evil, he sacrificed himself by taking the enchanted Tesseract crystal into the northern glaciers, never to be heard of again. Seventy years later, a scouting expedition for resources up north discovered the Captain in a deep sleep on a bed of ice, hidden away in a high tower. The great wizard Tony Stark and his team were able to successfully wake him again.

Grasping for any way to continue this conversation, Sam blurted, “Must have driven you near to madness, to return after the whole defrosting thing.”

Sam noticed Steve’s posture stiffen just slightly before smiling. “It takes some getting used to. It’s good to meet you Sam.” Steve turned towards the woods.

Stupid, Sam thought to himself. He obviously did not want to talk about it. Sam wasn’t sure why, but he desperately wanted Steve to accept him.

“It’s the--” a horn went off in the distance, cutting Sam off.

“Alright Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the swim, if that’s what you wanna call swimming,” Steve smirked.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sam retorted, holding back a laugh. He felt lighter at Steve’s jesting. Maybe there was hope for this friendship after all.

“That’s how it is,” Steve said, turning towards the path.

“Anytime you wanna stop by the forge and make me look admirable in front of the girl selling flowers by the gate, just let me know,” Sam said.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Steve said.

As if by apparition, a figure dressed in all black rode up on a white steed, the reins of a second horse in her hands. Her hood concealed her face but Sam saw red curls spilling out the edges. The maiden lowered her cloak and looked directly at Sam. Most people couldn’t hold a gaze for too long and need to look away, but she didn't back down. The longer Sam stared, the more determined she seemed to stare back. The horses remained eerily still at this encounter.

“Hey,” Sam finally greeted.

“Do any of you know where the catacombs are? I’m here to fetch a relic,” she smirked.

“Very funny. Ride’s here,” Steve said. “I’ll see you around, Sam.”

The lady tossed Steve the reins and he mounted the horse before nudging it into a trot. 

* * *

Sam worked his hammer on the forge and steel in a steady rhythm. He had been working on this sword for a few weeks. It would earn him a pretty penny, but provided enough time during reheating that Sam was able to also work on his pet project.

Sam didn’t give the Captain much more thought as he toiled away at the forge. Actually, meeting Steve brought back a lot of memories Sam had pushed away—memories of being in the battlefield, memories of Riley. Sam thought that he had successfully put that to his past, but he was clearly wrong. The past two years, Sam worked really hard on building something meaningful. There were other soldiers like him, lost after coming back from war. They attempted to pick up old skills, going back to their bakeries and fields, markets and books. It took some time, but the habits of old came back to them. Sam forged them knives and hoes and blades for plows. He thought that he was adjusting back too, until Steve came into his life.

He absentmindedly struck the same spot over and over again. Riley would have given him hell for the way this piece was shaping up. Riley always challenged Sam to do better--to be a better soldier, a better person. Sam raised his arm and dropped the hammer down on the sword with all his might, breaking a piece off the tip. The broken metal bounced onto the ground, emitting tiny dings as it fell away from Sam.

“That’s pretty intense,” a familiar voice broke Sam’s focus.

Sam turned to see Steve leaning against the wall behind him.

“Look who it is,” Sam said, sliding the sword back into the flames of the forge 

“Does it help? Hitting metal?” Steve asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.”

“You lose someone?” Steve pressed.

“My second in command, Riley. Standard practice run, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. Til a dragon’s flame knocked him out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It was like I was up there just to watch,” Sam sighed. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, staring past the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“After that, I had a really hard time staying in the force.” Sam looked up and caught Steve’s gaze.

“You happy now? Back in the world?” Steve asked.

Sam heard the glimmer of hope in Steve’s voice. It wasn’t that Sam was unhappy, but he wouldn’t say that he was happy, per se. He was living, one day at a time. Some days were easier to get by, and some days he felt like Atlas, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew what Steve wanted to hear, but at the same time, Sam didn’t want to lie to him.

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So hell yeah,” Sam flashed a toothy grin. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “You thinking about getting out?”

“No, I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I did,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Gladiator sport,” Sam replied, eliciting a laugh from Steve. “Seriously, you can do whatever you wanna do. What makes you happy?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, turning his gaze to the ground.

“How bout this,” Sam said, “meet me at the Sozzled Owl at sundown. We’ll talk about your prospects over a few brews.”

* * *

“And then I told him, ‘How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you’,” Steve laughed, fiddling with the mug in front of him.

“You really are a scoundrel,” Sam said before draining his mug.

Sam hadn’t felt this lighthearted in many moons. There was something about Steve that just brought out Sam’s mirth. He couldn’t explain it, but he naturally trusted Steve. Perhaps it was Steve’s straightforwardness, or maybe it was that he seemed genuinely interested in what Sam had to say. He had not felt camaraderie on this level since Riley and he had just met Steve a few days ago. While Sam didn’t usually believe in the Fates, he felt like they were destined to meet, that this friendship would amount to something very important.

“This is me,” Sam said, pointing to his front door.

“Is that a falcon head?” Steve asked, gesturing to the symbol above the entrance.

“Yeah, family crest,” Sam said. “Thanks again for the mead.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said. “After all, you’ll need an excuse for not keeping up with me tomorrow at the lake.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sam laughed.

“That’s how it is,” Steve smiled.

* * *

Sam was disappointed that Steve hadn’t shown up for the morning swims the past few days. Part of him hoped that he didn’t alienate Captain America when they shared stories over pints the other night. Steve seemed like he had a good time, and Sam really got the impression that Steve was going to join him on the swim the next morning. Perhaps some ‘save the crown’ mission came up.

Sudden knocking at the back door made Sam jump. He wasn’t expecting company and he didn’t have any reason to be concerned, but he readied himself nonetheless. He held his short sword in his right hand and slowly opened the door. He wasn’t expecting to see Steve and the lady who had met him the first day by the lake. They were both covered in dirt and soot, clothes tattered and torn, neither with armor.

“I didn’t know where to go,” Steve said.

“Everyone we know is trying to kills us,” the lady said said.

Sam instantly went into high alert. He had hoped the day would come when Captain America would need his help; he just didn’t expect so soon, under these circumstances. He opened his door wider and took a quick peek around.

“Not everyone.”

Sam directed Steve and lady, who was introduced as Baronessa Natasha, to the basin to freshen up while he stoked the fire in the kitchen stove to make breakfast. If Sam had to guess, his friends probably had not eaten a decent meal in a few days. Instead of the usual porridge with eggs, he felt like he had to make an impression.

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet as he prepped the meal. His whole body buzzed as he diligently measured flour, sugar, ginger, and almond milk. Sam considered the situation. Whatever this was, it was bad. Captain America was on the run and the world had turned upside down. They might not get out alive. Sam wasn’t even sure who or what they were fighting. He grabbed the cast waffle iron hanging on the wall and placed it over the hearth. When it was hot enough, he poured the batter in and put the iron back on the flame.

Sam felt ready though--ready to get back into the fight. Working at the foundry had provided tremendous resources for adjusting back to a civilian life, but deep down inside, Sam had missed being out in the field, of having a purpose that was greater than himself.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the cottage was small. Sam heard bits and pieces of Steve and Natasha’s conversation as he continued making waffles. Something about trust. Steve trusted Natasha with his life. Sam aspired to that level of trust with Steve. He felt eyes on him as their conversation finished.

Turning around, Sam said, “I made breakfast, if you guys eat that sorta thing.”

Steve didn’t ask for Sam’s help in taking down SHIELD. In fact, he said he  _ couldn’t  _ ask, but Sam saw the desperation in those baby blues. Sam appreciated that in his moment of need, when he didn’t know who else to trust, Steve chose him. Sam was not about to disappoint. He offered Steve and Natasha the best weapon he could think of.

“Mate, Captain America could use my help. No better reason to get back in,” Sam said.

* * *

Stealing the wings was Sam's first taste into this new life--the spy life--the life of constantly watching your back.

If there was a point of no return in this whole mess, this would be it. Going to jail for committing a felony--and possibly treason--for Steve was the least of Sam's worries. He knew it was for a good cause, the right cause. Captain America would not steer him wrong.    
  
Sam knew it was about more than maintaining his chivalry. It was about being able to move on, to keep fighting the fight. After Riley's death, Sam thought that choosing a more reserved life, a life away from the field, would help him heal. But there was always something missing, a void. Sam was always itching for the thrill. After all, that's why he chose flyers of all the services. Jumping off of ramparts gave him a strange serene sense of calm, where for a few moments, he felt free.

Getting past the guards was the easy part. The hard part was getting through double walled stone hold that now housed his tack. Steve and Natasha were more resourceful than Sam had given them credit for. They brought along a strange torch with the smallest flame Sam had ever seen. They cut a small hole into the wall and were in and out of the fort in no time.

It wasn’t the exact set of tack that Sam had used when he was in the service, but he knew the unit well enough. Sam studied it closely, poring over every small detail, from the way the leather “feathers” were stitched together to the lightweight metal frame that folded the wings neatly. The box holding the whole contraption together glowed blue, which told Sam that the power crystals inside it were active.

It wasn’t unusual for Sam to work nights if he had many orders, so no one raised any alarm when Sam walked in and settled into his work bench. He toiled through the night to retrofit the wings’ harness to his personal armor.

* * *

The next day, they followed Sitwell and some sleazy looking types to a house of ill repute at the edge of town. Sam relayed a message to Sitwell through the innkeeper but left the actual kidnapping to Steve and Natasha.

Sam was perched on a ledge, waiting for Steve’s signal. He couldn’t hear the conversation between Steve, Natasha, and Sitwell on the lower cliff, but it didn’t seem like Sitwell was giving up any information, judging by their body language and Steve’s clenched jaw.

Steve dangled Sitwell over the edge of the cliff; the claps of the choppy waters just muffling Sitwell’s protests of not being able to swim.

Sam adjusted the wings once more, making sure they folded in and tilted up when he pulled the respective levers. He ran his hands down the sides where the soft leather wrapped around the smooth metal frame. The familiar low hum of the power source settled any nerves Sam had about his task. It had been a long time, but it felt like home.

“Oh shit,” Sam muttered as he watched Natasha kick Sitwell off the cliff. Sam leapt off the ledge and expanded his wings, gliding down just in time to grab Sitwell’s leg. He adjusted the wings to fly back up and dropped the traitor at Steve’s feet. With a flick of his wrist, the wings folded neatly back in.

“Those are pretty nice,” Steve said as they quickly shoved Sitwell into the back of a carriage.

“They do the job,” Sam beamed.

* * *

They were riding towards the Triskelion when their carriage was suddenly flanked by horsemen. Sam steered their horses left, down an open path, when a dark figure jumped out of the trees and landed on the roof of the carriage. He ripped the reigns out of Sam’s hands. The horses, given their heads, started to canter. They picked up speed despite hitting every rock and root along the way.

Sam was desperately trying to calm the horses when Natasha yanked him sideways just as an ax flew past his face. One of the horses screamed in fear from the harassment of the horsemen still flanking them, and Sam looked up to realize they were coming up on a steep hill. They were going too fast for the carriage to navigate it and in his head he saw the carriage twist and roll, crushing them into the dirt. Then he felt an arm around his chest like an iron band and was pulled backwards. There was the disconcerting feeling of falling and then he landed on his back against unyielding muscle, Natasha bouncing next to him. They lay on the ground, on top of Steve, who was on top of the door from the carriage. The rest of the carriage rolled away, horses still screaming in their panic.

Sam instinctively rolled behind a tree. He watched Steve and Natasha confront the opposition head on. The most menacing figure Sam had ever seen was strutting right towards them. His face was half covered by a leather mask, but his hair flowed in the wind. He carried several weapons on his body with ease. At first, Sam was drawn to his left arm, which had been replaced by a broadsword. The man swung it with ease, as if the sword weighed nothing on his body. Brute force was a challenge, but it didn’t deter Sam. The soldier’s empty and rageful gaze, though, left a pit in Sam’s stomach.

Sam watched as the soldier raised his broadsword arm and slammed it down on Steve. Sam wanted to race to Steve’s aid. Captain America could use his help, but he was paralyzed with a mix of awe and fear.

Steve halted the sword arm just above his head and retaliated with a blow to the soldier’s face, knocking his leather mask to the ground.

Suddenly, Sam heard the thunk of arrows and rocks striking around him. Hoofbeats thundered past and then back again as the riders adjusted to their unpredictable action. One unlucky rider pulled up his mount too sharply and his horse objected, rearing up and throwing him to the ground. Sam pounced on the man, sliding his knife against his neck and drawing him up to stand as shield against his chest. Three other men, still mounted, flanked Sam against a tree.

“Rumlow! We got the other one,” one of the men called out.

When Sam looked in Steve’s direction again, he saw Steve on the ground, shackles around his hands and feet.

* * *

The agents called themselves HYDRA and took all the precautions in locking them up. There were various chains and locks and weights and some fancier technology--probably Stark’s--to keep Steve completely immobile. The one called Rumlow made the shackles just a smidge too tight, and Sam remembered to return the favor if he ever got the chance. Natasha had taken a knife to her shoulder and it looked pretty bad from what Sam could tell.

“It was him,” Steve said. “He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me. Zola. They must have found him after the fall.”

At the word fall, images of Riley falling to his demise flashed in front of Sam. If it had been Riley on the bridge, Sam would have been--he wasn’t sure what he would have been. Many mixed emotions floated around his head.

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Natasha said, breaking Sam from his daze.

“We need to get a medic here,” Sam said, trying to stay present and focusing on their situation. “She’s gonna bleed out.”

One of the guards turned to Sam, then suddenly attacked the other guard with a small rod to the jugular. The second guard slumped to the floor. Pulling the helmet off, the first guard revealed herself.

She shook her hair out and said, “That thing was squeezing my brain.”

Sam looked at Steve and then back at this guard, in confusion.

“Who’s this guy?” she asked, staring at Sam.

Her grey blue eyes immediately drew Sam in. He could tell that those eyes had seen things--things that change a person, for better or for worse. Despite the hardness in her gaze, her features were actually dainty; she had a soft beauty that probably served her well in the right situations but undermined her in others. Sam wanted to crack through that wall and hear her war stories.

“They call me Falcon,” Sam sputtered. He sensed Natasha rolling her eyes.

“Just kidding,” the guard said. “I know who you are, Wilson. I know everything about anyone who’s someone.”

“Am I  _ someone _ ?” Sam asked Steve, who shrugged with a frown.

“And what do they call you?” Sam continued.

“Hill. Maria Hill,” she said, locking eyes with Sam again. “We have to get out of here. Fury’s waiting for us.”

* * *

 

Sam was amazed at all the gadgets Maria had to free them of the chains and bonds that the bad guys had put them in, probably more Stark inventions. Maria deftly removed some floorboards. The horses kicked up gravel into the carriage with their canter.

“Once you get down, roll to your right. There should be a boat right on the water. You think you’ll make it?” she asked Natasha.

Natasha nodded, crouching and sliding through the hole. Steve was next, followed by Sam, then Maria took the rear.

Sam had fought alongside several women when he was in the force, so Maria’s and Natasha’s physicality was not surprising to him. However, he had never before witness the grace and precision with which Natasha moved her body. Sam kept replaying the moment in the carriage where she pushed him aside. If not for her, there would be an axe square in the middle of his head.

When the boat left the dock, Sam felt he could drop his guard for the first time in a while. He looked towards Steve and Natasha, but they were throwing daggers back and forth with their eyes.

“I’m sorry this is how you find out,” Maria said, breaking the tension. “It was on a need-to-know basis.”

Natasha gave a small shrug and Steve looked out towards the water, shaking his head.

* * *

 

Sam stared at the ceiling of the dungeon. This Nick Fury was something else--faking his own death, commanding rogue forces across the land from here. Every turn that Sam followed Steve past came with a new layer of mess.

“I’m pretty sure you realize by now that you’ve gotten involved with some heavy shit,” Maria said, breaking Sam’s thoughts. “It’s not too late to back out. There will be casualties, possibly you. No one’s going to sing the tale of the brave and mighty Falcon. There is no glory in this mission.”

She gave off a different scary vibe than Natasha. Natasha’s strength lay in her fast reflexes, her lack of total hesitation; Maria’s was strategic. Maria was the chess player who hustled you--made you feel confident that she wasn’t a threat, and then take your king before you could get your bishops out. Always several steps ahead--probably courtesy of all that time with Fury.

While Sam felt like he earned a seat at the table, he still wasn’t sure whether she respected him or not.

“I’m not here for the glory,” Sam said.

“Good. We leave before dawn,” she replied.

Sam thought he might have caught a very faint smile curling the edge of her lips.

* * *

 

Breaking into the Triskelion was actually a lot simpler than Sam had anticipated. Maria knew the layout and the schedule for the changing of the guards. Their mission was to prevent the king from releasing the dragons, which were trained to reign destruction on the neighboring kingdoms. Natasha was sent in on a separate mission to assassinate the king.

Steve led the way while Sam and Maria followed closely behind. With their weapons out, they slowly descended into the dungeons where the dragons were kept. Sam bumped into Maria at the next turn.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No you’re not,” she said.

Sam smiled. “Ok, maybe I’m not. Maybe a little.”

“Quiet or you’ll give away our position,” she said, just as three guards appeared on their path.

Steve threw his round shield, ricocheting it off the wall to knock the guards down where they stood. The clangs of their armor echoed down the spiral stairwell.

“I’m not the one you have to keep quiet,” Sam said, stepping over the guards.

* * *

They knew they were almost at the dungeons when it got harder to breathe, the air thick with dragon’s breath. Suddenly, the floor rumbled beneath them.

“Take cover,” Maria yelled.

The walls started to crumble around them.

Sam instinctively threw open his wings and wrapped them around the trio as they fell to the ground. The floor gave beneath them but they didn’t fall. It felt like the rubble was moving upwards and they were along for the ride.

Suddenly, they were up in the air and out in the open sky again. Sam looked around, trying to assess where they were when he was met with a pair of fiery eyes the size of Steve’s shield staring down a large, shiny, red snout. The heat emanating from this face rivaled the hottest forge Sam ever worked in.

“You take this one; I’m going after him,” Steve pointed towards the black dragon in the distance. Sam barely made out the figure riding the dragon, but he’d recognize that broadsword arm anyway.

“How are you--” Before Sam finished his question, Steve made a running jump. Sam watched as Steve dove into nothingness, catch the black dragon’s tail and then pulled himself up to the dragon’s back.

“Watch out!” Maria yelled, knocking Sam down as a streak of fire zipped over them. Maria patted the flames out in Sam’s feathers.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked, helping Maria to her feet.

“There’s a cavern in the outskirts of town,” Maria said, pulling a silvery rope out of her pack, throwing one end of it to Sam. “Let’s reign it in.”

The dragon’s scaly surface slowed them down tremendously, but they eventually got the rope around the dragon’s mouth. It took both their strength to fly the dragon. When Maria said cavern, she actually meant covert SHIELD prison, because as the dragon descended, Nick Fury was waiting with some sort of whip that subdued the dragon instantly.

“And the other one?” Nick asked.

They scanned the horizon until they saw the black dragon over the ocean. It was hard to make out what was happening, but Sam clearly saw a struggle between Steve and the Winter Soldier. The dragon looked like it had had better days too, with gashes down its sides and wings. The Winter Soldier pinned Steve down against the dragon and raised his broadsword arm up.

“NOOOOO!” Sam screamed, running towards them as the Winter Soldier struck his arm down.

“Wait, look,” Maria said, holding Sam back.

Sam looked closer and saw that the blade had struck the back of the dragon, who was slowly descending into the ocean. He knew they would have to act fast before the current took Steve out to sea.

* * *

“So what are you going to do now that SHIELD is no more?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to help Tony Stark rebuild the kingdom,” she replied. “And what about you? Going back to the foundry?”

Sam shook his head. “Whenever he wakes up, we’ll probably go searching for his friend, the dude with the sword arm,” he said.

“He’s recovering pretty quickly,” Maria said, staring at an unconscious Steve lying on a bed. Mages surrounded him, casting spells and administering potions.

“Our boy will beat this,” Sam said.

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Maria said.   
“I have to,” Sam replied. “He gave me a reason to get back in the fight. I will follow him to the ninth circle of hell.”

“You’re a good friend, Sam Wilson of the Falcon clan,” Maria said.

“You know you can just call me Sam,” he said, turning his head to look at her.

“I know.” She smirked, turning to return his gaze. “But I like making you squirm.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

In one swift movement, Maria pinned him against the wall, her hand grabbing hold of his face. Her lips were on his, firm but not harsh.

Sam allowed his hands to wrap around her, pulling her curves towards him. 

It was over as quickly as it started; she took a step away from him.

“I’ll see you around, Falcon,” she said.

“You better believe it,” he said. 

* * *

It wasn’t a fortnight later when Sam and Steve slid into a dark alley. Natasha, in her dark cloak, blended into the surroundings.

“The thing you asked for,” Natasha said, handing a scroll over to Steve. “Be careful Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread.”

Steve looked hopeful yet pained at the same time. Sam was excited that Steve was getting a second chance, even though he wasn’t quite sure that this friend was the same that Steve had remembered. He knew that he wasn’t going to let Steve do this alone.

“When do we start?” Sam asked.

“You know you don’t have to come with me,” Steve replied.

“Somebody’s gotta make sure you eat a proper breakfast,” Sam laughed.


End file.
